


Carousell

by Sylphidine_Gallimaufry



Series: Tales of Nightmare Dork University [14]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Nightmare Dork University (Fanverse), Other, Piki Black - Freeform, Proto Pitch - Freeform, Secret Relationship, mannequin Piki, oil and smoke - Freeform, shy Proto, sinister whimsy, strange fruit from a twisted tree, the dressmaker's secret au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylphidine_Gallimaufry/pseuds/Sylphidine_Gallimaufry
Summary: As a living mannequin, Piki can only go out into the great wide world in the dead of night, and Proto has to have all his wits about him when they do.But Proto has something lovely he wants to share, so the risk is worth it.  Set in theDressmaker's SecretAU of Nightmare Dork University, which is in and of itself an AU of RISE OF THE GUARDIANS / The Guardians of Childhood.
Series: Tales of Nightmare Dork University [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/577933





	Carousell

**Author's Note:**

> Originally appeared on Tumblr. <https://sylphidine.tumblr.com/post/630744513311358976/ndu-carousell>

The night was crisp and clear and breezy as Proto stepped out onto the landing first to make sure no one was around. Satisfied, he pulled gently on Piki’s firm plastic hand to draw him out into what he hoped would be an enjoyable experience. 

The mannequin was clothed in a turquoise sheath dress and thigh-high sheer black stockings, worn with ballet flats. He had topped off his ensemble with a long dark swing coat and a lovely cloche hat to match. In the half-shadowed illumination of streetlamps, Piki looked extremely elegant and otherworldly. Proto smiled and tucked Piki’s hand into the crook of his elbow. They set out on a measured pace across campus, being ever mindful of uneven pavement, tree roots, and other potential hazards underfoot. 

Eventually their steps took them to the auditorium, and Proto unearthed his keys, locating the one he needed for the side door. Once inside, he reached for the light switch that he knew was there and turned it on.

Piki blinked slowly in the sudden brightness, although Proto was uncertain whether the mannequin’s eyes actually needed to adjust, or if Piki was imitating Proto’s own behaviour. Either way, Proto was savouring this excursion.

It had been a stroke of luck, hearing his cousin Pitch mention some of the newest acquisitions he and his classmates had been able to scrounge for the Theatre Department and their latest production. One particular item had Proto’s heart beating faster, in his desire to please Piki. 

Now he led them both to the recesses backstage, behind thick red velvet curtains, and into a wonderland. 

Painted flats stood stacked against the walls, depicting scenes from the Gilded Age in the heart of New York City. Mirrors in ornate frames were stacked among the flats. But the _piece de resistance_ was the merry-go-round horse in the center of the floor. 

It was a proud black stallion, with a golden mane and tail fashioned of Palomino horsehair. Its harness was silver and gold, studded with red, blue, yellow and green glass stones, and its reins were black leather. 

There was something wrong, though. Something radically wrong. 

Rather than being mounted on a pole with a platform base, it was on runners. This carousel beauty had been converted into a rocking horse. 

Proto’s habitual equanimity suffered an inexplicable wrench. This was not what he’d had envisioned from Pitch’s conversation, overheard via eavesdropping at the window of his cousin’s dormitory suite.

This was a child’s toy now, not the regal steed that he wanted to show Piki.

Piki, however, did not seem to mind in the slightest. He moved forward, his coat swishing about his ball-jointed hips, his mouth open in a comically perfect O, his hands outstretched both reverently and greedily. He tucked a stray lovelock of soft black hair behind one of his ears, looked back at Proto with a beatific smile, and asked in his light voice, “May I?”

And Proto’s disappointment trickled away as Piki slung one long silk-clad leg over the back of the wooden horse and settled himself in the saddle.


End file.
